


Freefall

by Kelsey_Jaybird



Category: Ultimate Spider-Man (Cartoon)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Love Conquers All, M/M, Past Sexual Assault, Recovery, Triggers, the healing power of friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 11:16:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2267700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelsey_Jaybird/pseuds/Kelsey_Jaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spiderman has a reputation of being fearless, Peter Parker of being happy-go-lucky.  It's not so much a mask as waiting for the past to stop hurting.</p><p>When Peter encounters someone from his past he's been trying to forget, he has to learn how to be a hero to himself or else risk losing his friends and his boyfriend, Harry. </p><p>Based off of the comic referenced here: http://bit.ly/1rRRVy1</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: Fear

**Author's Note:**

> Before we begin, I would like to say two things. The event that inspired this story is in fact Spiderman canon. This is, to me, the most important part of writing this fanfic. I would advise you to check the link in the summary. It might help you understand this fic better, and it's just a beautiful piece of work. That being said, this story deals with the aftermath of sexual assault. I will not describe the assault in detail: that's not why I'm writing this. Just so you know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter Parker understands fear. He's Spiderman, after all--he regularly fights villains stronger than him. He also understands pain. Too well. More than anyone knows. When a familiar face reappears, Peter Parker must confront an old trauma.
> 
> Edited January 8th, 2018

Peter Parker understood fear.

He understood the purely visceral fear of death, that moment in between life flashing before your eyes and the realisation that _this is it_. It was the feeling he had the first time that he lost the grip on his webbing somewhere over Brooklyn. He had let go for a second and the spider sense kicked in too late. He felt gravity take him, squirming as his body went on autopilot, sending out another line of web fluid. He hit the side of a building, crashing and rolling onto the ground before his memories drifted to his parents.

He understood the gnawing unknown clawing at the periphery, the underlying question of “what now?” tainting every other perception. It didn’t hit him until he was standing in front of Uncle Ben’s grave with Aunt May in his arms; when “nothing will ever be the same” hit him like a truck. He didn’t want to think about the finances and the paperwork and what to do with all of Uncle Ben’s stuff. All he could ask was “what now?” and he had no answer.

Peter understood another kind of fear, one that he kept hidden inside himself, one he only admitted to in the dark of his room through teary eyes. A fear that ate at him slowly, like a spider sucking the life out of an insect caught in its web.

If it didn’t hurt so much, Peter may have appreciated the irony.

#

“Pete! Earth to Pete!” Peter jumped at the sound of fingers snapping by his ears. He had been drifting off again. Too many late nights as Spiderman, followed by too many late nights with Harry, were taking their toll.

Not that he minded, looking over at the handsome boy he was studying with. And dating. _Right, can’t forget that,_ Peter thought.  He stuck his tongue out at Harry, who simply smiled and wound a lock of his perfect curly hair around his finger. Peter tried not to melt into his chair.

“Sorry, Har,” he said, looking back down at his math book, “I zoned out for a second.”

“I’m not complaining,” Harry said, grinning. “Now my brain can catch up. You move too fast for me Pete, I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep up with you.”

Peter blushed. “Can we start with keeping up with your calculus homework?”

Harry let out an overdramatic sigh. “Fiiine. But you’re going to pay for this later.” Harry said, winking at his boyfriend.

Peter was pretty sure his level of blushing was inventing new shades of red, but he cleared his throat and continued with his math lesson.

#

He wasn’t sure how it happened, in retrospect. He was pretty sure it started with the spider bite.

It snowballed from there, Peter thought. He became Spiderman, started helping people. Then Nick Fury had approached him about leading/coaching/babysitting (in Peter’s opinion) a team of superheroes, and Peter went from having two friends (MJ and Harry) to having a group of friends. Super-friends, if he was really feeling like annoying Sam that day.  Flash Thompson started leaving him alone, and seemed to be attempting overtures of a friendship—to impress MJ more than anything else, but still.

Then, there was Harry. Harry had entered his life in the middle of a storm and quickly became his best friend. Two boys with daddy issues against the world. Hanging out after school turned into all night monster movie marathons (not “sleepovers”, as Aunt May called them) which turned into going “stag” to school events together and late nights staying up talking (still not “sleepovers”, Aunt May, those were for ten-year-old girls) and pretending that Harry wasn’t everything that Peter wanted.  Then, one day, re-watching the original Godzilla for the eighty zillionth time and arguing over something stupid, Harry had grabbed Peter’s shoulders, pulled him in and kissed him. Peter kissed him back so hard he felt teeth crash together.

After the kiss, when Peter asked Harry if they were dating now, Harry had thrown his head back, laughed, and said “Weren’t we already?” and Peter fell completely in love.

 

#

 

Peter zipped his hoodie against the cold fall day. Harry slid his hand into the pocket of Peter’s hoodie, grabbing his hand and holding it. Peter smiled up at Harry, who still managed to make a two-inch height difference feel like two feet.

Midtown High had a half day and Harry insisted on walking Peter home from their lunch date. Well, Peter had insisted on walking home instead of getting a ride from Harry’s chauffeurs and Harry had insisted on being with Peter and they compromised. The couple walked in easy silence, enjoying the falling leaves.

“Aunt May said to remember where you put your bag next time you sleep over.”

Harry grinned sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to wake her up. Really.”

“You woke me up too, you jerk.” Peter nudged Harry.

“Yeah, but you don’t make me breakfast so I don’t care.” Harry nudged Peter back.

“Gonna stay over tonight?” Peter asked, hopefully.

“I can’t. I have dinner with my dad.” Harry frowned.

Peter felt the air get colder. “It’s okay, Har. Are you going to tell him?”

Harry sighed. “You know I can’t right now.”

“I know.”

“Hey.” Harry squeezed Peter’s hand. “He’s going away on business next week. We’ll have the house to ourselves. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Peter stiffened. “Nachos?” He said.

Peter knew Harry was sighing internally, but he didn’t show it. “And beer, Pete. So much beer.”

“Perfect.” Said Peter, leaning over to kiss Harry’s cheek.

Harry looked around before turning Peter around to give him a sloppy wet kiss on the lips.

“Ewww!” Peter said, making wiping motions. “You’re gross.”

“And you’re home.”

Peter looked away from his boyfriend’s eyes to his modest Brooklyn home. He didn’t see Aunt May’s car in the driveway but saw the beginnings of a pile of leaves on his front lawn.

“Man,” said Harry, looking at the same pile, “I am so glad I don’t have to do chores.”

“Shut up.” Peter playfully retorted. “I guess this is ‘see you later?’”

“You bet, Pete.” Harry gave Peter a kiss on the cheek before turning away. “I…bye Pete.” He said, before turning and walking away.

Peter waved at Harry’s retreating back before walking up the porch into his house. He knew something was up with Harry. And it was his fault.

Harry would never say it out loud, of course, but they had been together for three months. Peter could see it in the way Harry looked at him, in the way his eyes drifted over Peter’s entire body when he stretched. It was only natural for Harry to expect certain things. And Peter wasn’t opposed to them. He thought about them all the time, so much so that he was pretty sure he’d find “Harry Osborn’s perfect mouth” written, by accident, in his English paper. But he wasn’t ready. Especially not for explaining the reasons why.

Peter shrugged it off. Those thoughts wouldn’t help him get chores done. He grabbed a warmer coat from the back closet and headed out into the yard, grabbing a rake conveniently leaning against the back of the house. He started raking, humming to himself. Some pop song that Ava got stuck in his head on purpose.

He almost didn’t hear it. He was engrossed in raking and humming and not thinking about how Harry’s designer jeans made his butt look perfect and oh so squeezable. He heard it though, over and over.

“Hey, Pete!”

Peter set down the rake for a second, looking over to the back fence. An older boy, with hair so blond it was almost white, leaned against the fence. “Hey Pete, remember me?”

Peter heard, for the first time in years, the voice of an old ~~friend~~ enemy, an abuser, a predator. He felt his world shatter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the first chapter of Freefall. It means a lot to me that you chose to read this long chapter. 
> 
> I've had this idea in my head since I first heard about Peter's past, and I wanted to write a fic that actively dealt with his struggles as a survivor. The important part of Peter's story, to me, is that he healed. He became more than his assault. And that is so important. 
> 
> If you're reading this and you're a survivor or you're currently experiencing sexual assault or abuse, I want you to know that you're not alone. Please visit RAINN for more information and resources. They're pretty great. https://www.rainn.org/


	2. Chapter Two: Suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Peter (or Spiderman) isn't seen for a week, his friends start to wonder.
> 
> Peter may understand pain, but Harry understands suffering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited January 8th, 2018.
> 
> Beware, POV shifts lie ahead. Also sadness. That too.

_It stopped._

_I need it to…_

_No._

_This isn’t real._

_It can’t be real._

_Nothing is real._

_Nothing._

_Oh God please stop_

_Get off!_

_GET OFF OF ME!_

_STOP._

Just stop.

 

#

 

Harry Osborn understood suffering.

He knew many assumed he didn’t. He wished he had their luxury, their delusions. That money brought happiness, success. Family.

Money only bought him a bigger tomb to slowly wither in.

His father was never around. After Harry’s mother died, it seemed that Norman Osborn replaced her with money. It hurt, in ways Harry couldn’t articulate except by lashing out at the nannies. Sometimes he’d lock himself in his room and read for days. Newspapers, magazines, pamphlets, anything. Anything to feel something other than the emptiness of a mansion cold without his mother’s warmth.

Norman did nothing. Only disapproved.

Then Norman courted a new love; power. Harry was an easy enough source of that. Disapproval became verbal, then physical. Harry was sent to prestigious boarding schools where his differences were tangible, punishable offences. When Harry was inevitably kicked out his father controlled every aspect of his life until he was begging to go back to boarding school because blows were better than glares.

He was allowed to enter public high school. A lifesaver, really. Norman had presumably decided that Harry belonged with New York’s finest ruffians. Harry had enough money to protect himself from bullies, but too much money to fit in with his middle-class peers, who were naturally suspicious of a rich kid at a "poor school". Harry went to class, came home, did homework and then stared at the ceiling. Sometimes he’d read.

Then he met Peter Parker. The single cutest thing he had ever seen, fiddling at the side of the road with a broken bicycle. He had recognised him from class, the only person shyer than him. He had offered him shelter, a new bicycle. Peter had refused it, not wanting money. This only endeared him to Harry more. Norman had liked him as well. It made sense to Harry, given that Peter was his opposite. Bright, sweet and kind. A true friend.

Harry needed him. He had no one else.

He’d never say that out loud.

Peter was a balm to his wounds, the calm in the storm that was high school. Peter became his constant companion, helping with homework and always being up for whatever stupid horror movie Harry could think of.

Harry knew he loved Peter from the night they watched every single Godzilla movie. It was going to be a matter of Pete realising it. Which, at the time, seemed like it would take forever. Harry made no secret about staring at Pete’s hair, into Pete’s eyes, and eyeing Peter’s backside in his slightly tighter jeans. Pete stared at his mouth when he thought Harry wasn’t looking.

One night they were re-watching Godzilla and arguing over if Thor could beat up Godzilla. Pete was buzzed on sugar and covered in Cheeto dust. Harry was drunk on love. Pete kept playing with his adorable floppy hair and moving his long shapely legs and at about the time Mjolnir was brought into the argument Harry had lost it and kissed him. It was electricity, it was perfect.

When Pete had kissed him back, Harry discovered something more than perfect.

Harry was finally happy.

Almost.

He loved Peter, but he had needs. Urges. He’d only seen Peter shirtless once, but it had set off a chemical reaction that Harry couldn’t begin to get enough of. He’d slept over at Pete’s house, and it had never progressed past heavy petting.

It wasn’t that Harry was only after one thing. He had seen Pete so miserable, and so alone. He wanted to make him feel good, make him feel loved. And, in some narcissistic part of his mind, show Pete all of him.

Harry was okay with waiting, he was. But it was starting to stress him out.

And then there was his father. Norman had made clear, in no uncertain terms, what he thought about homosexuality. The words had made Harry’s blood run cold. He loved Pete. So much more than he knew he’d ever love his father.

He wouldn’t lose Pete to anything. And that included his father’s prejudices.

So he would lie to his Dad until he could move out with Peter. And maybe continue lying.

Pete thought Harry wouldn’t tell his father because he was ashamed of their relationship.

Maybe that’s why he hadn’t called, texted or appeared to school in a week.

As the worry ate away at Harry’s mind, he learned a new kind of suffering.

#

“Has anyone seen Pete I mean Spiderman?” asked Sam. Nick Fury’s teen recruits were gathered around a table in the SHIELD helicarrier after a particularly rough training session. “Today we fought robot ninjas. He would have loved that.”

“I don’t know man,” Luke said. “He hasn’t been at school either. I tried asking MJ and Harry but MJ wasn’t sure and Harry looked like he was going to burst into tears.”

“Maybe he broke up with Harry?”

“That’s stupid, Sam.” Ava flicked an errant piece of her charred suit at him. “Harry and Peter were particularly all over each other last week. It was sickening.”

“Love is never sickening.” Danny piped in.

“It is when it’s happening while I’m trying to eat.”

“So if Harry and MJ haven’t seen him, where is he?” Sam asked, nervously adjusting his helmet.

“He hasn’t even been patrolling for a week,” Luke said. “I think JJ wants him back. He’s starting to run out of material without him.”

“Has anyone tried calling his Aunt?” Everyone turned to look at Ava as she spoke. “What, no one thought to try that?”

“You didn’t until right now.” Sam quipped.

“Let’s try it.” Luke pulled his cellphone out of his sticky uniform. “Stupid ninjas and their stupid sticky bombs.”

“That definitely wasn’t historically accurate,” Danny noted.

“Danny, shut up,” Sam said. Ava glared at him.

“Both of you, shut up! It’s ringing.” Luke set the phone on the table and put it on speaker. “No one talk but me, okay?”

The phone clicked as May Parker answered. _“Hello?”_

“Hi Missus Parker, it’s Luke calling.”

_“You know it’s May, dear. It’s good to hear from you. How are your friends?”_

Luke raised a warning hand to Sam, who was about to speak. “We’re alright mam. We just haven’t seen Pete at school and we were wondering if he was feeling okay?”

There was a long pause. _“Yes, he’s sick.”_

Sam mouthed “I knew it” and Ava mouthed back “No you didn’t”. “Do you want us to bring his homework?”

_“No, thank you dear. Principal Coulson has been bringing it by.”_

“Is he up for visitors? I want to talk to him about…a project. At school.”

_“No, I don’t think he is. He’s very…sick right now.”_

“Are you sure? We could bring him some soup or some tea.”

_“No, thank you. Peter isn’t up for seeing anyone right now. I have to go. Goodbye, Luke.”_

Silence.

“You don’t think he had it last week, do you?” Sam shuddered. Ava punched him in the arm. “What was that for?”

“Something else is going on, stupid. Have you ever heard of _principals_ bringing their students missed homework?”

“Ava is right. This must be a Spiderman matter.” Danny said, crossing his hands in front of him.

“Then why don’t we know about it? We’re his teammates!” Luke slammed his hand on the table. “I hate all this sneaky SHIELD stuff!”

“Maybe this isn’t a Spiderman thing.” Said Sam. Everyone turned to stare at him. “What? If it were SHIELD we’d know about it. Maybe it’s personal.”

“But…then why wouldn’t Pete tell us?” Luke asked. “We’re his friends.”

“I don’t know,” Danny said. “We should not jump to conclusions right now. It may be a small matter. I say we let Peter have another week. If we do not see him then…”

“Then I don’t care if it’s personal, I’m bringing him soup!” Luke exclaimed.

Now it was Luke’s turn to be stared at. “What? Pete likes soup.”

#

“Peter? Principle Coulson is here.”

“…”

“Hi, Peter. How are you feeling?”

“…”

“Has he spoken at all since I’ve been here last?”

“No. He hasn’t. I don’t think he’s been eating either. I’ve made his favourites, but he hasn’t sent the plates back out.”

“I see. Peter, I have your homework here. There were some handouts in biology today. I’m sure you know this already. I’m just sliding it under the door.”

“…”

“He’s not okay, is he.”

“Can you blame him?”

“No, I suppose I can’t. But he has responsibilities.”

“So did you.”

“Mrs. Parker, I assure you that had we known…”

“Don’t give me that. Of course, you did.”

“If we had known the situation was this severe, we would have prevented this.”

“That doesn’t do Peter much good now, does it?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Parker.”

“What do we do now? I don’t know how to help him.”

“SHIELD has resources. We’ll do our best.”

“You had better. I don’t know what else to do.”

“You’ve done all you can, Mrs. Parker. Let us take it from here.”

“Alright.”

“I have to be going.”

“Peter, Principle Coulson is leaving. Can you say goodbye?”

“…”

“Goodbye, Peter.” Agent Coulson turned away from the door. “I’ll be in touch.”

May Parker nodded and stood by Peter’s door as Coulson saw himself out. She leaned her head against the doorframe. “Peter?” she called. Nothing. “Are you still in there, Peter?” Nothing. May slumped down and began to cry.

She heard a faint knock. She smiled and pressed her hand to the door.

“It’s going to be okay, baby. I know it will be.”

She didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember: if you are a survivor of sexual abuse or assault, or are currently going through this, YOU ARE NOT ALONE. There are so many people like us around the world. If it brings you any comfort, Spiderman has gone through it, just like you. Even if he's not real, he's a symbol of hope. 
> 
> When I was editing, I realised I should add this too: IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT.


	3. Chapter Three: Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter reaches his breaking point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited January 8th, 2018

Peter didn’t know what was worse, listening to Aunt May cry every night or the voices in his own head.

He thought he had buried those thoughts a long time ago when Uncle Ben died. Thoughts of revenge. Of Darkness. He knew how much damage he could do now. Sometimes he contemplated how hard it would be to snap a neck while he tried to eat Aunt May’s pot roast. He would shake his head, throw the plate against the wall and sob.

This wasn’t what Spiderman was supposed to do.

He was supposed to swing in, make a quip and save the day. Not that he was ever acknowledged for it, mind. But the people he helped were grateful to him. His team was grateful to him.

Why wasn’t anyone swinging in to save him?

#

Peter heard the phone calls. It was hard not to. The house was old. You could hear almost everything everyone else was doing.

He heard the conversations with Coulson. They had an air of concern. They usually ended with Aunt May snapping at him. He heard his team calling. He hated hearing Aunt May lie for him. He heard the calls from MJ, the resignation and confusion in Aunt May’s voice. MJ knew. She had known for a while. He hated the calls from Harry the most.

He missed Harry. He missed Harry’s soft hair, Harry’s fancy cologne which he swore he didn’t wear. He missed Harry’s smile and Harry’s wry sense of humor. But he couldn’t poison Harry with his own filth. He was dirty. He didn’t deserve Harry. Harry was going to realise it.

What disturbed Peter the most was the fact that Skip had come to his house twice. Once he was the only one home. The other boy had rung the door bell and called up “Pete? Mrs. Parker? Hey, anyone home?” Peter had vomited. The confusion, sadness and pure, unfiltered rage had been too much for him. The second time, thankfully, Aunt May had been home.

Aunt May had opened the door and immediately slammed it, waking Peter up from a nap. He knew something was wrong then. Aunt May was too nice to even slam the door on the Jehovah’s Witnesses. He heard the doorbell ring again while Aunt May paced the kitchen. It rung again. Finally, Aunt May had opened the door and growled out “You are not welcome here.”

“Come on, Mrs. Parker. I only want to talk.”

Peter’s blood had run cold.

He opened the door a crack.

“I thought I had a restraining order. Get off my porch or I’m calling the cops.” Peter had never heard Aunt May sound like that. Not even at the trial of Uncle Ben’s killer. Not even when she had received the news that his parents were dead. It sounded like Peter felt on the inside.

“I thought it expired. Please, I just want to talk.” Skip sounded sad. Desperate. Pathetic. Peter was too tired to revel in it.

“I have nothing to talk about with you.”

“I want to talk to Peter.”

Aunt May laughed, a cold, bitter sound. “You don’t get to ‘talk’ to Peter ever again.”

“I’m sorry about Mr. Parker.”

Skip actually sounded sorry. It made Peter mad. Too mad to contain. Too mad to think, to breath.

Apparently, Aunt May felt the same. “Leave. Now.”

“But…”

“Leave. Now. Or I will call the cops.” Peter could feel the way Aunt May’s hand shook on the door.

“Okay. Will you tell Peter I said hi?”

“Go to hell.” Aunt May slammed the door.

Peter paced his room, kicking random books, clothes, plates. He wanted to scream. He wanted to hurl. He wanted to walk down there and snap Skip’s pathetic, sad little neck how dare he be sorry how dare he call him Pete like they were still friends and how dare he how dare he how dare he

Peter had to leave. Before he did something to the house they wouldn’t be able to afford to fix. He slipped on the costume and left through the window.

#

Spider sense screamed at him stop stop stop but he needed to keep going, keep swinging ignore the stab wound in the ankle it would heal soon and he didn’t need his ankle for swinging anyway even if he was bleeding drip drip drip onto New York below being a superhero, all blood sweat and tears and quips.

The fear returned but he was too tired too tired to care that he missed a web and was falling falling falling Free fall.

Then everything was hot and it might be the wind on the way down but he wasn’t falling anymore and he looked up and saw an angel and lost consciousness.

#

Johnny Storm paced around outside of the medicenter of the helicarrier. He was nine cups of Java in, having been cut off after he simply touched a cup and it started boiling. He couldn’t help it. Tonight was too surreal.

Johnny had made his token five-minute appearance at one of Reed’s science thingies before flaming on and going to the nearest club opening. He hadn’t been on the list but someone had gone in with him, he couldn’t remember her name but she had blond hair and could dance like no one’s business. At around ten to eleven, he had stopped ignoring Sue’s angry calls and said goodbye to whatshername and her friends and started flying home. That wasn’t surreal.

What was surreal was seeing Spiderman.

He had been at the hero game a little bit longer than the web-head, but he’d never actually seen or talked to the Bugle’s favourite target. Given his time spent off-world or out of the country, that wasn’t too unusual, but they both travelled above the city. The fact that they hadn’t run into each other already was just bizarre. Johnny had decided that today he was going to say “hi” to the friendly neighbourhood Spiderman.

He had called out a particularly clever quip and the web-head hadn’t responded. That was odd because Johnny knew that a) he was really loud and b) he was really close. He flew closer to the wall-crawler and say that he was bleeding. He was about to touch the guy, snap him out of his daze, when he saw him slip. Spiderman shot a web and it had slipped right through his fingers. And he just started falling. And made no move to catch himself.

Johnny had snapped right into action. He swooped and caught the falling hero, shouting in his face to see if he was still conscious. Spiderman had lifted his head for a moment and then collapsed in his arms.

Johnny wasn’t stupid. He knew he couldn’t take Spiderman to a hospital. He had landed on the nearest rooftop and frantically tried to remember the first aid classes Sue made him take. He wound up cauterizing the ankle wound shut and ripped off the mask to see if the guy was still breathing. He hadn’t expected him to be so young. Spiderman was a kid, not much older than Johnny.

Johnny had called Reed, figured out where the SHIELD helicarrier was and taken Spiderman there. Now he was in the medicenter, over-caffeinated and waiting to see if someone he didn’t even know was going to be alright.

A woman with dark hair, Hilk or Mill or something, came out to speak to him. “Mr. Storm.”

“Hi.” He said weakly, giving a little wave.

“While we thank you for bringing Spiderman here for medical attention, we understand that you may have seen…”

“I’m not saying anything,” Johnny said. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that.” The woman said. Johnny shut up. “We understand that you may have seen things that would assist us in Spiderman’s recovery.”

“Oh.” Johnny sat down. “I don’t know. I just saw him swinging and I was like, ‘hey, it’s that spider guy I hear so much about, I’m going to go say hello’ and I said something totally clever and funny and he didn’t respond, so I flew closer and saw he was bleeding and then I saw him miss a web and fall.” Johnny sat back, letting his head fall against the wall. “I don’t think he knew where he was. Or who I was.”

The woman nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Storm.” She stood up to leave. “You are free to go.”

“What’s going to happen to him?” asked Johnny. The woman stopped, turning to look at him. “I just…he’s my age, you know? I just…want to know.”

The woman sighed. “Under the law, I can’t tell you anything about his medical condition or recovery plans. However…” She put a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. SHIELD will take care of him.”

“Can you tell him that I was here?” Johnny asked. “When he gets better, I mean. Can you give him my number? It’s…”

“We will put you in touch if he wants to.” The woman said. Johnny smiled.

“Thanks.” He said, beginning the long walk to the flight deck.

#

Peter woke up feeling like he had been punched in the head by the Rhino. He opened his eyes to bright lights, and clean white sheets. He was about to get annoyed that Aunt May had taken his Star Wars sheets off his bed when he noticed the tubes sticking out of his arms.

He wasn’t at home.

Peter tried to sit up but found himself too weak to. He lay back in his bed, looking around the room. Aunt May was sleeping in a chair beside him.

The door slid open and Doctor Conners and Nick Fury walked in. Doctor Conner’s expression of compassion was almost more than Peter could bear. Nick Fury appeared stoic, but Peter saw pity in his eye. He didn’t know if he hated it or not.

“Peter.” Dr. Conners put his hand on Peter’s shoulder. Peter was too tired to flinch. Dr. Conners just rubbed his shoulder, gently calming him. Tears ran down Peter’s face.  
“Peter.” Nick Fury said. “What happened?”

For once, Peter Parker was speechless.

Nick Fury nodded slowly. “Whatever happened isn’t going to happen again. You’ll be recovering here from now on. We have 24 hour supervision of this room. We’ve already prepared a space for Aunt May. Dr. Conners will oversee your physical recovery and we’re bringing in one of the world’s best therapists.” Peter frowned. He didn’t want a therapist. He didn’t want a doctor. He just wanted….He didn’t know. But it wasn’t being treated like a victim. He was going to get out of here. Nothing could hold Spiderman.

As if reading his mind, Fury said, “And if you try to leave without the permission of myself or Doctor Conners, I will make sure you can never be Spiderman again.”

Well.

There went that idea.

“I’m going to get you some food.” Dr. Conners knelt so he could look into Peter’s eyes. “We’re going to start bland to get your body used to eating again, so I apologise for how boring your food is going to be. However, I think you’ll find the SHIELD protein shakes….edible.” Dr. Conners smiled and stood up.

“I’ll check in tomorrow, Peter.” Nick Fury said, turning to leave. Dr. Conners patted Peter’s shoulder and followed. Fury stole a glance over his shoulder, so quick anyone else would have missed it. But Peter caught it.

He laid back and stared at the ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the length between updates. This story is extremely emotionally draining, and I often have to stop and just breathe. I hope this long chapter makes up for it.
> 
> I promise that I'm going to stop torturing Peter soon. 
> 
> Remember, if you're going through this, you're not alone, and it wasn't your fault.


	4. Chapter Four: Coping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter starts getting the medical help he needs, and some love from his team.

Luke Cage ripped apart an attacking life model decoy, crushing copper and steel like tinfoil. Pure fury coursed through his system. He was vaguely reminded of when he got his powers, but this was worse. This was infinitely worse.

Pete was sick. And Fury wouldn’t let Luke see him.

“Spiderman is in no shape to see anyone, Luke. Fury’s orders.” Coulson had said. “I know he’s your friend, but you need to let him rest.”

Luke tore the head off an LMD, throwing it to the ground and stomping on it. He hadn’t seen Peter for weeks, and now Pete was sick and he still couldn’t see him and there was nothing he could do and fuck!

“Luke.” Powerman felt a calming hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see Danny standing behind him. “I think that robot has had enough.”

“Not. Yet.”

“I’m worried about him too, Luke. But this isn’t training. It’s wallowing. It’s not what he’d want.”

Luke glared at Danny, but he knew that Iron Fist was right. Glaring was just making it clear to Danny that he knew that he knew. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“Part of my training was accompanying the monks to the homes of sick children to offer them comfort,” Danny said. “I was angry that I was not allowed to use any of my skills to help them. But what I did not realise is that the monks were teaching me how to listen, to learn what others need. And most often, they just need a friend.”

Luke contemplated Danny’s words for a moment. “I have an idea.”

“If it involves dairy products, count me out.”

“Never again, Danny. Get the team together. I have a mission for them.”

#

It had been a day and a half. A day and a half of being confined to the bed. A day and a half of pity from Dr. Conners, relief from Aunt May, and hovering from Fury.  
All Peter wanted was to go home.

Dr. Conners was a good man, but he wasn’t great at keeping his voice down. Peter had caught words like “malnutrition” “stress” and “PTSD” from the hallway, where Dr. Conners spoke to Aunt May in hushed tones. Peter hated that they assumed he wasn’t strong enough to actually know what was wrong with him.

He hated more that they wouldn’t give him something to do. He didn’t know if he wanted his phone or a book more. He wanted to text MJ and let her know that he was still alive. And Harry…he wanted to hear his voice again. He knew that he must be hurting his boyfriend. He hadn’t meant to.

It was all Skip’s fault. Skip was hurting his relationship with Harry. And if Harry knew about Skip, he’d leave.

Tears started streaming down Peter’s face.

“Pete?”

Peter nearly jumped out of bed—he would have if the various tubes weren’t keeping him in place. It wasn’t Coulson or Fury. If it were them, they’d just come in. He listened harder.

“Try calling louder, Danny. You’re too quiet. PETER PETER LEMON EATER!”

“That’s real mature, Luke.”

“When did you get here, Ava?”

“I think the whole helicarrier heard you yelling. Hi Pete.”

Peter wished his throat wasn’t too dry to call to them, let them know he heard them. Instead, he reached for the water cup beside his bed, and with minimal strength, threw it at the door.

“Think that’s him?”

“Pretty sure. Maybe he wants us to leave.”

“Or he’s sick, so he can’t talk. Pete, throw something else if you want us to stay!”

Peter looked around frantically for something. “Guess he doesn’t want to hear from us.” He heard Danny sigh. Peter reached behind his back, grabbed his pillow, and threw it. His back was going to ache so back later.

The pillow’s impact was light, but it was heard. “He does want to hear from us!” Pete heard Luke press himself up against the door, causing it to creak under the strain. “It’s Luke, Danny and Ava!”

“He can probably hear us talking,” Danny said.

“Silence hippy,” Luke said. “I know you probably can’t talk right now because you’re sick, but we’re really happy you’re like, getting medicine and stuff.”

“I’ve been perfecting my tea recipes, soon I’ll have the perfect tea to heal you.”

“And I did really great on that math test you were telling me not to worry about. That mnemonic you taught me really helped.”

Peter was still crying, but they were tears of joy.

“Listen, we know that you’re probably really bored in there when Aunt May isn’t around, so we’re going to come by every day and talk to you, make sure you’re doing okay. And I don’t care if you don’t like it, because too bad, we’ve missed you!”

“What are you doing!?”

“Pete, that’s Coulson, we gotta go! Danny’s taking the first shift tomorrow.” Peter heard Coulson shoo his eager team away.

His principle opened the door and looked at his face with concern. “If they’re bothering you, I can give them extra training to give you some rest.” Peter shook his head frantically. “Oh, that’s alright then. But unless you take your medications and try to gain back some weight, I will make them too busy to see you. Got it?” Peter nodded. “Good,” said Coulson. Peter noticed that the usually reserved man was smiling.

#

Over the next week, while Peter tried to get back to something resembling physically healthy, his friends kept their word and visited every day.

“I meditated to whale songs yesterday. I thought they were so beautiful. Luke keeps calling me Aquaman, though. He’s going to be in for a surprise tonight when he goes to train and gets bombarded with water balloons.”

“If Liz Allen doesn’t shut up in biology class I might literally claw her eyes out. She needs to pay attention to the germ unit, because if she keeps flapping her gums all day something’s bound to fly in there. I’m hoping that it’s rubella.”

“Danny thinks he got me good with those water balloons, but I’m like, I don’t know, the Green Lantern to his Aquaman because I got will for days. I can wait forever to plan my revenge. Let’s just say you’re going to hear him screaming from here, Pete. I guarantee it.”

“Did you know that you can bake tofu? I can’t believe I’ve been a vegetarian this long and I’ve never figured that out. I’ve been missing out on life.”

“My mom called the other day. Apparently, Grandma fell down her steps and fractured her ankle, but it turned into a break because Grandma just got up and kept gardening. For three hours.”

“Mrs. Jordan keeps asking me for my opinion on To Kill a Mockingbird. Is that racist?”

Even Sam stopped by a couple of times.

“Hey Pete, sorry I haven’t been by to talk yet. I’ve been getting killed in English class. Okay, that’s a lie. I’ve been in space. Oh my god, I just can’t stop lying. I’m just…you’re so strong, you know? I’ve been worried. I wasn’t sure I could take this, and I think I’m doing okay. I’ve been trying to keep Aunt May’s spirits up because I know you can’t really talk yet. Pete. I’m so sorry. Oh god, I’m so sorry and I don’t even know why…”

“Hey, Pete. Sorry for breaking down there. I’m not really good at sick people. I, uh, I’m glad that you’re not holed up in your house being sick, though. It’s good to know that you’re hearing this and that you’re getting medical help. I gotta go, Pete. Bye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long it's been between updates guys. I'm also sorry that this chapter is so short. This fic is...well, I've written about Superman dying, Charles Xavier dying and all sorts of horrible things in my original fiction, but this fic is one of the most draining things I've ever written. But I'm sticking with it, because I've been getting such great feedback and I thank all of you from the bottom of my heart. 
> 
> I'm also happy to be getting to happier parts. I'm going to be focusing on recovery from here on in, because as important as it is to explore the emotions following trauma, I want to show recovery. Because Spidey does recover in the comics. And you can get better. You are not alone.
> 
> I don't actually know if visiting sick kids was part of Iron Fist's training, but wouldn't it be cool if it was? I don't know how in character this is, but I think I did a decent job. 
> 
> Once again, if you want more information on sexual abuse, visit https://www.rainn.org/
> 
> And if you're going through this, or have survived this....you are not alone, and it's not your fault.


	5. Chapter Five: Reuniting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter reunites with his team, makes a new friend and wrestles with calling Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly I’d like to apologise for making you all wait so long for another chapter. I know it’s been three years since I updated last, please forgive me. Honestly, so much has happened in my life and my head has just stopped spinning. Most importantly for this fic, I finished PTSD treatment and can now write this fic with more of a strengths-based lens. When the #metoo movement started taking off last year I knew I had to get back to this fic. I’m a survivor myself, and seeing stuff about sexual assault every day has been tough. In a way, this little Spiderman fanfiction is my way of trying to put hope into the world. Recovery is possible. I’ve lived it now, and I want to share hope with you all, the readers. 
> 
> This chapter is pretty dialogue heavy, but long, to make up for making people wait.

Peter took a deep breath. It shouldn’t be this hard. He swung around New York city daily! He had been almost drowned, almost beaten to death, almost vapourised…

“Maybe it’s because those are ‘almosts’,” suggested Doc Samson. Peter looked up from his knees.

“What?”

“Those things you’re mentioning, they almost happened. The trauma we deal with in our sessions did happen. Maybe that’s why it’s harder to deal with. There’s no happy ending—yet.”

“Maybe, Fr…”

“What did I tell you would happen if you called me “Freud” one more time, Peter?” There was only amusement in Doc Samson’s voice. “If anything, I’m more of a “Rogers” than a Freud.”

“Humanistic psychologist.

“Good to know you’ve been doing your homework,” Samson said with a smile.

“Not much else to do,” muttered Peter.

“I suppose that means you kept your end of the bargain.”

“Yeah,” Peter said. “All my homework is done. All my homework for the next two months is done. I’ve been so bored. Can I please see my friends?”

“Well, that was the deal. But I see what you’re doing. Let’s not get distracted. We need to debrief.” Samson leaned forward. “We went through the memory twice today. How do you feel?”

“Like hurling,” Peter spat. “Like it happened all over again.”

“You sounded frightened and angry,” Samson said.

“I was a kid, what do you expect from me?” Peter clenched his fist, drawing his legs up. He just wanted to be done therapy.

“It’s alright, Peter. It’s normal to feel scared. You’re right, you were a child. No one expects you to have done anything differently.”

“I do,” mumbled Peter.

“And we’ll work on that, I promise. It’s only been two sessions, but I expect that we’ll make great progress and…Oh!” A bell rang from the intercom, signalling the helicarrier’s lunch hour. “I didn’t realise what time it was. We have two options. We can debrief into lunch, or we can have an extra long debriefing session tomorrow. What do you think?”

“Extra long tomorrow, please.” Peter’s stomach grumbled. Samson laughed.

“That’s more than okay, Peter.” Samson’s smile faded. “Are you sure that you’re ready to see your friends?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, smiling for the first time since the session began. “I’ve been missing them.”

“Alright, then I won’t stop you.” Samson stood up, walking to the break-out room’s door to hold it open for Peter. Peter nodded and walked past, a bounce coming into his step. Samson reached out a hand to stop him. “Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember, you don’t have to tell them until you’re ready.”

“Yeah, I know.” Said Peter, who strolled down the hall with what his Aunt would call “pep in his step” for the first time in weeks.

#

“I hate robots.” Luke groaned, flopping into a chair in the helicarrier cafeteria. The metal groaned under his strength but held. Ava, Sam and Danny took seats around him, each flopping into their chairs. Ava fished a bolt out of her hair as Luke continued talking. “They’re the worst kind of enemy.”

“You just say that because Fury built a training bot that can finally stand up to you,” Danny said, glancing at the day’s menu across the cafeteria. “We’ve all hated robots for much, much longer.”

“Whatever,” Luke scoffed, “but they’re still the worst.”

“Nope,” Ava shook her head, “frost giants. Without a doubt. Big, mean and strong is the worst kind of enemy.”

“Robots can be all of those things.”

“I doubt that our training robots have the capacity for that, Luke,” Danny said.

“Plus,” Sam spoke up, “most enemies are big, mean and strong. The smart ones are objectively the worst.”

“Well,” Peter interjected, “that eliminates most of the jerks we fight regularly.”The team stopped. Peter stood before them in his Spiderman suit, mask only covering half his face. Peter wanted his team to see him smiling. Ava was the first to get up and hug him, the others following with Sam joining last. “Guys, people are staring,” Peter whispered, “let go.”

“Not in a million years, Parker,” Sam whispered into his shoulder. Peter sighed and tried his best to hug his team back. They stood together for a long time before separating, long enough for the SHIELD staff around them to stop staring.

Danny wordlessly left to get Peter something to eat, and Luke glued himself to Peter’s side as the young hero sat down. He winced but noticed his team’s stares of concern. “I forgot how hard these seats were. Ouch,” he tried to joke. No one smiled. No one even groaned.

Danny returned with a large milkshake. Peter thanked him and took a sip. The team stared at him in silence for a few long minutes before Sam spoke up. “Okay, I’m just going to come out and say it. What happened, Parker?”

“I got sick, Sam. That’s all.” Peter had been dreading this conversation. He knew his team deserved answers, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to give them.

“With what?” Sam asked. Ava rolled her eyes. Luke made a “stop motion”, and Danny muttered, “I thought we talked about this.”

“Nothing serious.”

“What though?”

“I said, nothing serious.”

“Is it contagious?” Sam asked.

“No. But it’s personal, and kind of gross.”

“Do you have an infection?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Sam!” Peter snapped, crunching his milkshake cup in his fist. He looked down at his ice-cream covered hand and panicked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so...”

“No,” Ava said, glaring at Sam across the table. Sam was being rude, right Sam?” Sam nodded. Ava continued to glare at him. Luke cleared his throat.

Sam started to ask another question, but Danny gave Sam a look that clearly said: “shut up”. Sam shut his mouth for a half second, then started talking again. Ava gave him a look this time, but Sam protested. “Just one more question, guys. Is that okay, Pete?” Peter nodded. “Are you feeling better?”

“Clearly,” Peter deadpanned. He shook his head. “Sorry Sam, that was rude. I’m feeling better. Thanks for visiting me.” He managed a smile. “It made me so happy.” Peter was glad his mask covered his eyes so his friends couldn’t see him crying.

“It was nothing, Peter.” Luke patted his shoulder, noting Peter’s slight flinch. “You’re our friend. You would have done the same for us.”

“We’re happy you’re better,” Ava added. “We need our leader back. The villains are getting cockier, stronger and dumber.”

“Guys, I...I’m not coming back to combat yet.” Peter saw a look of frustration cross his friend’s faces. He looked down. “I’m sorry. Fury says I’m not well enough.”

“We’re not frustrated at you, Peter.” Ava sighed. “We miss you. We’re annoyed with the sickness. We hope it goes away soon, so you can come back all the way.”

_I am the sickness_ , thought Peter. _It’s all my fault I’m this way_. “I’m allowed out of my room now,” he said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood, “maybe I can watch you guys train?”

“I’d like that,” Danny said. “I need some feedback on my defensive techniques.”

“You got it,” Peter said. His team looked at each other. Peter had to admit their non-verbal communication was getting really good. They seemed to conclude their silent discussion and the team lapsed back into their usual rhythm.

The team ate their lunch together, Peter having milkshakes and the rest of the team eating. They chatted about robots, school and Fury’s latest challenges. Peter started yawning by the end of lunch. Danny recommended that they walk Peter back to his room so he could rest, and the team agreed. They stopped at the door and said their goodbyes. As they were leaving, Ava, Sam, Danny and Luke shared another look. Peter was starting to get sick of it, but he wasn’t going to say anything. Ava stayed behind while her teammates walked away.

“Peter, you know we’re your friends, right?”

“Yeah?” Peter replied, confused.

“I don’t know if the others see it, but I know you’re not telling us everything,” Peter opened his mouth to protest and Ava continued, “and that’s okay. I know you have your reasons. But Pete...we can see that you’ve lost weight. You still look sick, no offence. We’re worried. We want to help you, but we can’t if we don’t know what’s wrong.”

Peter was silent. “It’s personal. I don’t know if I can talk about it yet,” he admitted.

“That’s okay.” Ava reached for Peter’s hand, stopping before grabbing it and holding hers out to ask permission. Peter lifted his hand into Ava’s. She stroked the back of his hand gently. “I’ll keep the boys off your back. We really did talk to Sam about this. He’s just...”

“Dense.” Peter finished.

“Exactly.” Ava squeezed Peter’s hand and let go. “Whenever you’re ready, we’ll be there to listen.”

“Thanks, Ava.” Peter smiled at her, genuinely. Ava smiled back and turned to leave.

“Oh,” she said as she left, “you should call Harry. He’s worried about you. We told him you had pneumonia. I don’t think he bought it.”

Peter sighed. “I will.”

Ava nodded and left, leaving Peter in the hallway alone.

#

When Peter learned that Johnny Storm, the Human Torch, had brought him to the helicarrier, he didn’t know whether to be mortified or thankful. He had never met the guy, but in interviews, the young hero seemed nice enough. Peter was surprised to learn that Johnny wanted to talk to him. When Peter called the number Johnny gave Maria Hill, Johnny picked up on the first ring. He was happy to know that Peter was okay, and wanted to see him. Now Peter was waiting for Johnny in an empty office on the helicarrier.

Fury opened the door and Johnny Storm stepped in. Peter noted that the Human Torch looked even younger in person. It was hard to believe that this guy was in university already. Johnny also seemed to take up the whole room, having a friendly argument with Fury before striding over to Peter and asking for a hug. Though Fury glared daggers through Johnny’s back, Peter accepted the hug. Fury asked Peter if he needed anything else before leaving the two superheroes alone.

Peter didn’t know how to start the conversation. Luckily, Johnny did. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he said, quietly.

“I’m glad it was you who found me,” Peter said, equally as quiet. “You’re a good person.”

“My sister doesn’t always agree with you, but thanks.” Johnny smiled at Peter. Peter smiled back. “When I saw you falling...I couldn’t let you fall. You were bleeding so much and you looked so lost and sick and...I was scared.” Tears started to gather in Johnny’s eyes. Peter frowned. “I’m sorry,” Johnny said. “That wasn’t cool of me. I bet you were probably more scared. Scareder. Or something.”

“I didn’t really feel much of anything, actually,” Peter joked. Johnny didn’t smile. _I think I’ve lost my touch_ , thought Peter. _Maybe dark humour isn’t my thing_. “It’s okay,” Peter said, leaning forward. “I guess I didn’t think about that. You probably don’t see that a lot.”

“I mostly fight aliens and dictators, that’s true,” Johnny said. “I see people suffering in Latveria a lot. Or on alien worlds. So I guess it’s just weird seeing it at home. Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask about what’s going on. I may be an idiot, but I know that’s personal. I see you in my sleep though, sometimes.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Peter looked away. “I didn’t...I’m sorry I traumatized you like that.”

“I’ll get over it,” Johnny said, perking up. “Seeing you now is already helping. I didn’t expect Spiderman to be a teenager, to be honest. That was crazy. How are you this good at being a hero already?”

“Practise?” Peter offered.

“Oh no dude, don’t say that. You’re too young to have practice. That’s almost depressing.”

“I’m just that good?”

“There we go! Confidence gets you everywhere, my friend.”

_Friend_ , thought Peter, smiling internally. _He’s probably just saying that. You’re nothing_. “Maybe we can practice together?”

“I would love that!” Johnny sat right up. “Have you ever punched an alien? Oh, wait, yeah. How about...an interdimensional conqueror?”

“Nope, I can safely say I haven’t done that.”

“Then that’s what we’re going to do. Next time Annihilus shows up, I’m going to call you and we’re going to punch him. It’ll be great.”

“For sure man.” Peter laughed, “Then we can get hot dogs.”

“I love this guy!” Johnny said to no one, laughing, “he’s a thinker. A real innovator.”

Johnny Storm stopped, suddenly. “You know, if you ever need anything, you can call me, okay?”

_You don’t even know me_ , Peter wanted to say. _If you did, you wouldn’t say that_. Peter smiled instead. “I will, I promise.”

Johnny opened his arms for a hug and Peter stepped in. They shared a long hug before Johnny exclaimed that hugging for too long was weird. They shook hands, and Johnny left.

#

Peter stared at his phone, finger hovering over the call button. Harry’s picture filled his screen. What would he even say? It had been a month and a half. Harry had probably moved on already. Or he’d be so angry. Or worried. Peter chewed his lip. It was hard to think about.

But he wanted to hear Harry’s voice. Even if he shouted and raged and told Peter that he was worthless. It wasn’t like Peter didn’t already know some of that. But if Harry was happy to hear from him...It was worth it, Peter decided. Harry’s voice brought him comfort, no matter what.

He pushed the button. The phone rang twice.

“Hey, Harry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know it was mean of me to end on a cliffhanger. Fear not, I have the whole fic plotted now, and I will be updating very soon. Some very exciting things are going to happen soon. 
> 
> I cannot seriously tell you how much seeing your comments have helped me. It brings me joy to know that people are responding to this fic. We're all in this together, after all. 
> 
> Remember: YOU ARE NOT ALONE and IT WAS NOT YOUR FAULT.


End file.
